This starfish rode its own little struggle-express over the exposed sandbar, trying to find some water before the sun could suck the moisture de su cuerpo and send him to the much-more-moist starfish heaven, also known as Point Loma. I found this picture to be both beautiful and depressing. Ahorita, estoy en la cibercafe en Telchac Puerto. It's late. I'm tired. My stomach is full to the top with porkchops and salad and bread, courtesy of my Italian neighbor Joan Duca, who recently shot a LOT of stray dogs directly in the buttocks with a pellet pistol. This is my life in the Yucatan. This is paradise.
I was in San Diego for a week for business / pleasure, and I must be honest - I felt like I was in a foreign country. Apparently, I've assimilated much more then I imagined I would, and I was looking at the ole SD through tourist's eyes. What a lovely town it is - I understand why I live there. One thing to note: it would seem I have grown quite a bit since moving to Mexico, check out how much bigger I am than the carts at Whole Foods in Hillcrest. Yikes.
The two Mexican Men in my life are giving me trouble - Diego and Negrito. We've wrapped up the construction on the new portion of Diego's casita, courtesy of my tiny bank account. I was happy to pay for and do some of the work myself, until I found out that there's a very good chance Diego lies to me on a regular basis. "Somos amigos!" I tell him, and he nods. I'm getting to the bottom of this little mystery of mine, but I have a feeling that making up stories is as much a part of the Mexican culture here as luke-warm Coca Cola and pescado frito.
Negrito, on the other hand, shoveled me up a dose of the mange when I got back from my trip. The guys tell me to put motor oil on it. I'm not so sure. I bathed him today in some special soap which he hated like a champion. I made sure to give him some treats before and after to thank him for putting up with the cold water and suds. Poor guy. I have to selectively pet him as to avoid the scabs and such, which reminds me of the good ole days. It's ironic, he's also taken to chasing a poor little starved puppy that comes around looking for food...didn't take him long to forget his roots.
I'm going to wrap up this clusterfriend of stories with a bit on selling a house in Mexico. It's much more complicated than I would have guessed, and it turns out that everyone must be paid something when a home changes hands here. The big bank. The lawyer. The federal government. The local government. Even the liar Diego. When it's all said and done, we might clear enough to buy some corn tortillas and a caguama of Sol. Andale!
1 comment:
When I saw Nig's back, I thought you were going to tell me that while you were in SD, Diego gave Nig the ol' chop patrol with something sharp, at which point I wondered if Diego would still be alive...and lying. I think you need to elab on the lying portion. I'm left wondering what that was all about, and I don't like that. I want to be informed on the soap opera that is Mighty Fine.
Side note: I hope you are making progress in the Desi book. I cracked it open again, yesterday, and I'm doing the same, this morning. I'll be making a trip to guitar center soon, to pick up some small accessories.
Beer, scabs, and story-telling.
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